Given Up
by Pottermus Prime
Summary: Zombie Apocalypse/Human AU. When you lose everyone, will you have the strength to move on? Rated for death and suicide.


Based (loosely) on a prompt I got on tumblr. UsUk during the apocalypse. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Alfred F Jones sat in his livning room. He stared blankly at the television, trying to process the information coming through it. Al took off his glasses and gave them a quick wipe on his shirt. Maybe he was just imagining things? Another glance at the t.v. said otherwise. It was finally happening. The world as everyone knew it was ending and no one could do anything about it. The zombies outbreak finally happened. Grabbing his cell phone, he decided to make a few calls before everything went to complete shit. Pacing back and forth, he waited for an answer on the other end. "Hello?!" The panic in the Englishman's voice was clear.

"Arthur! Are you okay dude?" Relief flooded through Alfred's body. They may not have had the best relationship in history, but they had been through thick and thin together. This was no different. "Where are you?"

"I-I'm fine. I'm still at my house. I was just getting ready to leave when..." Arthur was on the verge of tears. "Alfred, what is happening?"

"I don't know man. Just stay in your house. I'm going to get Mattie, then we're coming to get you." Alfred looked out his window. It was nothing but chaos. People were everywhere, trying to get to their families. There was smoke rising on the horizon. "What about Francis? Is he with you?"

"No. I had just talked to him before you called. He said he was going to come here... But oh, God, Alfred. He's not very good in a fight. I can't..." Arthur couldn't hold it in anymore. He broke into tears at the thought of losing the Frenchman. "Alfred, please hurr-" The phone went dead. "Alfred? Alfred?!" Arthur threw the phone across the room, shattering it against the wall. It was useless anyway. He paced back and forth. He really needed a cup of tea right now.

As Alfred was running around his house gathering supplies, there was a banging on his front door. He opened the door just a crack to see who it was. It was Matthew. "Mattie!" Alfred threw his arms around his brother and dragged him inside, closing the door behind them. "I was just getting ready to go get you!"

"I figured as much. As soon as I figured out what was going on, I grabbed my bag and headed over." Matthew pointed out his backpack full of survival gear. "Sorry I didn't call first."

"It's fine. I'm just glad you're fine." Al finished gathering his things and put his backpack on. "You mean to tell me you were prepared for this?"

"You mean you of all people weren't? It's just a basic bug out bag in case of emergency. I never actually wanted to have to use it." Matthew stated. "Are you almost done? I'd like to get going while we still can. You know, before the hordes start moving in."

"Yeah. Just one more thing!" Alfred took off to one of the rooms toward the back of the house. He returned a few minutes later with two shotguns on his back, a pistol at his side and a bag of ammuniton and who knows what else. "Ready?" Matthew nodded. The boys gathered their things, took one last look around, and loaded into Matthew's truck, saying goodbye to the world as they knew it.

Years had passed since the outbreak began. Things were only getting worse. Food and supplies were getting harder and harder to find. The death toll kept rising. Francis hadn't made it through the first month. He couldn't handle the stress. The Frenchman had offed himself one night while the rest of the group had been sleeping. Matthew had made it just over four years. He had gone on a supply run with Alfred, leaving Arthur to watch the camp, when they were over run. Alfred hadn't been the same since, making increasingly stupid decisions. At least until Arthur beat some sense into him, telling him that Mattie didn't give up his life just so Al could throw his away. That they still had eachother. But now, now it was really the end.

It had been oh... five years? Six? No one knew anymore. You considered yourself lucky to make it through the the hour, even. Having lost everyone they loved, most people were just giving up. Tired of struggling to find a reason to go on. Tired of seeing no light through the darkness. Arthur had finally reached this point. While Alfred had slept, Arthur kept watch. The Englishman heard the monster before he saw it. He didn't move. Didn't care anymore. He was going to die right here, right now. Standing up, he held out his arm, welcoming the deathly bite.

"GAHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He tried to muffle his scream, but it was no use. Alfred was a light sleeper these days anyway. Teeth were tearing the flesh on his arm apart when Alfred burst from the tent, wielding a knife. There was no hesitation in his movements as the American drove the knife through the zombie's skull, killing it. Arthur dropped to his knees.

"Arthur! Oh God, no!" Alfred spotted his arm. "Why didn't you kill it!"

"I'm sorry, Alfred, but I can't do this anymore." The desperation in the man's voice was chilling. He was broken. There was no going back from this. Alfred held him in his arms, knowing what was coming.

"I'm not gonna let you turn, dude. I can't. As soon as you're..." Al broke down in tears. "DAMMIT. DON'T DO THIS TO ME. DON'T YOU DARE DO THIS TO ME!"

"I-I'm sorry. I just..." Arthur's voice trailed off. His breathing was getting shallower, his skin getting clammy from the fever that was setting in. "First Francis, then Matthew... I just can't-" The older of the two men started coughing violently.

"No! NO! Don't do this! Please! I don't have anyone else! Arthur! ARTHUR!"

"You... you have to k-keep going. If anyone can... survive this, I-it's y-you, Alfred." Arthur closed his eyes. "Just s-stay strong for... m-me. Y-you'll find someone else. Please. For... m-me."

"Arthur, please! I don't know what to do anymore! I've lost everyone I care about the most! Please! Fight it!" Alfred didn't care how much noise he made. He didn't care anymore. Everyone he loved was gone. He had no one left. It was over. Six years of struggling to survive, thrown away in one night. Alfred hugged Arthur closer and checked his breathing. He wasn't. Gathering what strength he had left, he grabbed the knife that was still lodged in the zombies skull. "I promised I wouldn't let you turn. I don't break my promises." Alfred drove the knife into Arthur's temple, preventing him from becoming one of the monsters that killed him.

Al stood up. Alone in the world. It had been months since they crossed paths with any other survivors. What was the point? He went into his tent and grabbed the pistol he had stashed away. There was one round left. They had saved it in case someone got bit and there was no one around. But Alfred wasn't going to wait to get bit. He layed on the ground next to Arthur's lifeless body, staring at the night sky.

The stars were shining brightly, like life hadn't been absolute hell for every living thing on the planet for the last six years. That's when he realized. It didn't matter anymore. The Earth would carry on, start anew, with or without humans. Alfred grabbed Arthur's still warm hand and put the gun to his temple. "I'm sorry, but I just don't see the point anymore. I have no one left. I don't know if there's even anyone left. I just... I can't. You were the only thing that kept me from doing this after Mattie died. I'm sorry." Alfred pulled the trigger, and felt death greet him. No more suffering. No more heart break. No more loss. No more anything.


End file.
